The Foundation

There is no place to house this first entry but I need to set the foundation. It going to be too difficult to understand because my mind it too difficult to understand. I can’t begin to make sense of my own thoughts. They are often conflicted and I can’t share them because I’m afraid of the repercussions.

I need to make sense of this because I fear for my wellbeing. I’ve made it this far, but I often feel like I’m at my wits end.

I’m medicated and in therapy. At the forefront, I’ve been diagnosed with severe anxiety, mild depresseion. PTSD. Relationship complications and fantasizing suicide are a common theme behind the front lines.

I’ve been on mediciation for a long time. The formula and dosage has changed throughout the years. I know it helps because when I try to get off of them, I feel a rush of terror approaching. I’m at the point in my life where I think I’ll be on them forever.

I’ve been in therapy off and on. This latest bought has been over three years. I’ve got the best therapist I’ve had and I love working with her. She has helped me understand a lot about my challenges. Unfortuanatley, they are rooted so deep and have grown so long that I havne’t been able to break free. I continue the work.

I can easily set the foundation. I fucking hate it here. I always have. Sure, I’ve had some great times and I’ve known some wonderful people. However, I’ve suffered too much. I would have been dead a long time ago but I’m too much of a coward to kill myself. I still dream of it though.

Death itself doesn’t scare me. It’s the pain. I’ve known so much pain that it scares me to take on more even though I do in some respenct. Living is pain but it’s not physical and I’ve known a lot of physical. Physical pain scares me and is the only thing that keeps me from suicide.

I’m a nice person, but I’m complicated. I need control in everything. I have to drive the car. I have never been on a roller coaster. I am constantly focused on my surroundings. If I don’t have control, I lose control. My mind amps up the anxiety and I either panic or zone out.

I can work with people. In fact, I am a very hard worker. However, I can’t work in an office or a place with a lot of noise. I get distracted easy but I’m also worried about what can happen.

I don’t talk much anymore. Some may consider that I fit into a demographic that shouldn’t be allowed to speak. I hear it so much that I’ve learned to obey. It saddens me because I spent my life fighting for those very same people. I thought I was doing good only to learn that it has backfired. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Anger tends to come to mind.

Woe is me, I know. Everyone has problems. Some have it worse than I do. I know that. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to talk about myself. If you don’t like it, move on. It doesn’t matter to me.

This is the foundation for a bunch of abstruse shit. It’s the foundation for pain, anger, hate, sorrow, regret, hope, and everything else that is good and bad. Probably more bad than good. It’s the foundation long overdue.

This is the foundation that probably won’t amount to anything but will serve as a place to leave a mark. Afterall, we are all shit that is easy flushed away. At least this is something that will last, at least for a while.

Here we go.